Sparring
by Shrrgnien
Summary: ...They became so accustomed to quarreling and making it up again that they got married so as to keep on doing it more conveniently.
1. Chapter 1

Sparring

**Chapter 1—Learning**

King Lune of Archenland settled into his favorite chair in his study. It was a beautiful day, cool and clear. A light wind ruffled the purple velvet curtains, and if he looked out the window, he could see the new donkey colt, who had been unanimously christened Rabadash, nuzzling his mother out in their paddock.

A sudden commotion from the courtyard startled him. Crossing the room, he peered out the window, and a familiar voice floated up to him.

"Keep-"

_Thwack_

"Your-"

"OW!"

"Guard-"

_Fwap_

"Up!"

_Thud_

King Lune smiled and crossed back to his comfortable chair.

His son Cor was just having another sparring session.

Cor landed on his back with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs. "Uncle!" he wheezed. "Respite!"

Aravis looked down at him, her wooden sparring sword hanging loosely in her hand. "No," she said coldly. "Get up."

Cor groaned. Of all his tutors, she was the worst. _She_ never hesitated to beat him black and blue because he was the future king. In fact, she seemed to take particular pleasure in it.

"Just…let me…catch…my breath!" gasped Cor, pulling himself to his feet and turning away.

Aravis lashed out again, striking him fiercely in the back.

"Ouch!"

"First rule of combat!" she snapped. "_Never _turn your back on the enemy!"

"Just…can't I have a second?"

"No, Sh…Cor. In a real fight, your enemies won't give you a chance to rest." She jabbed him sharply in the stomach.

He slashed at her, and she parried easily, then paused, frowning. "Cor," she said, "You're better than this! Sword fighting almost seems to come naturally to you when you train with your other teachers." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why…it's because I'm a _girl,_ isn't it? You think you'll…you'll hurt me or something stupid and chauvinistic like that! Well, you can be as sexist as you like because I've trained my whole life and I'm better with a blade than you'll ever-"

"_I know!"_

The outburst was so unexpected Aravis stopped shouting in shock.

Cor glared at her. "I know you are! You're better at everything, at the formalities and politics and court life and…everything! You've been raised for this, you've done this your whole life, but it's all new to me! I'm just a fisherman's son! I was _sold as a slave_, Tarkheena, and now suddenly I'm a prince? Have you ever thought about that, that sometimes it's just too much?" He whirled around furiously, glaring at the castle wall.

Aravis watched him, aghast. She'd done it _again,_ after promising herself she would never do it again! She'd acted superior to him…when he was her better in every way imaginable, even birth. He was right. She had never considered how overwhelming this might be for her friend.

"Cor?" she said hesitantly. He didn't answer. "…Shasta?" He straightened slightly, half-glancing around. Aravis swallowed and continued. "I…I saw High King Peter showing you an interesting move the other day. I'd never seen it before, and I was curious, but I didn't want to interrupt to ask about it. Do you…do you think you could show it to me?"

Cor looked back around at her, and for a moment he was Shasta again, the poor slave boy she had treated so poorly, bordering on indifference, who had charged an attacking lion to save her. This boy, she realized, still looked up to her, however little she deserved it.

A tentative smile spread across his face. "Of course, my good lady," he said, dipping into a perfect formal bow.

Aravis gave a Narnian-style curtsy, and Cor's eyes widened slightly when he realized she wasn't yet very good at it. "I'm learning too," she said simply.

Cor gave a genuine smile and lifted his sword slightly, opening his mouth to explain the disarming move.

"Aravis!" came an enthusiastic call from across the courtyard.

Aravis turned instinctively toward Corin's voice. Suddenly she felt a series of painful, stinging blows to her ribs, accompanied by a _whap-whap-whap _sound. She felt Cor's wooden blade press against her throat.

"Why, Aravis," said Cor playfully in her ear. "You seem to have forgotten the first rule of combat."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2-Out of the Mouths of Babes**

Their blades—Calormene scimitar and Narnian broadsword—clashed together, and Aravis was struck once again by how blasted _strong _Cor had gotten. His form and technique had certainly improved over the last few years…not that it could possibly have gotten worse, but still. They practiced with actual blades now—dulled, of course. They were closer to equals, as well; she had stopped beating him to a pulp and started teaching him about the different ways to block her strikes, and now when they fought he struck her almost as often as she managed to land a blow on him. Sometimes he even won their sparring sessions.

Not today, though. Today was payback for that last fight. He had cheated! Yes, she'd always told him to improvise, and yes, she'd always told him to be aware of his surroundings and _yes,_ she told him to use the terrain to his advantage, but that didn't mean he was supposed to use the tricks against _her!_

He had absolutely cheated.

She disengaged, using her momentum to spin into a deadly backhanded attack. Cor's block, managed at the last possible second, jarred her arm and very nearly made her drop her sword. Cor made to flick his blade up to her throat, but she knocked it aside.

"Are we interrupting anything?" asked a timid, oddly snorty voice.

Both Cor and Aravis paused for a few seconds, eyes locked on one another to ensure that their counterpart had also decided to stop fighting and greet the newcomer. Then they straightened out of their offensive positions and looked toward the voice.

"Hwin!" said Aravis, warmly if a bit breathlessly. "Oh, it's so wonderful to see you! Where on earth have you been?"

Cor strode up next to her. "Bree has been around several times," he told her, and Aravis heard a bit of his father in his tone now. "But he refused to give us any news of you! All he would say was that you were unhurt, and thanks be to the Lion for that, but where have you been?"

Hwin nickered a laugh. I wanted him to be a surprise."

Cor and Aravis glanced at each other in confusion. "Who?" they asked, almost in unison. Hwin looked around and called, "Okay, dear! You can come out now!"

At her words, a gangly roan Colt peeked curiously around the side of the stables, his whiskery face alight with glee at this game of hide-and-seek. He whinnied with delight and tossed his short, silky baby mane, trotting jauntily over. When he saw his mother's companions, however, he skittered to an almost comical halt, then darted behind his mother, peeking shyly out at the humans.

Aravis knelt down beside Hwin, holding a hand out to the nervous young stallion. "What's your name, little one?" she asked gently. The Colt looked terrified at being addressed directly by such a noble-looking stranger, and mumbled something unintelligible before ducking under Hwin and hiding on her other side.

Hwin gave an affectionate whicker. "His name's Shasta," she said. "Doesn't he remind you of him?" Aravis laughed, because that was exactly what she had just been thinking. The colt's small size and lankiness, his nervousness, and his wide-eyed mixture of wonder and terror at the world reminded her very much of Shasta—not Cor then, just Shasta—in Tashbaan. Another similarity, she realized with chagrin, was that this funny-looking creature who it was so easy to laugh at would someday be a magnificent, powerful stallion. She didn't voice any of these thoughts, however. She simply stood up, brushed herself off, and said teasingly, "Well, he's certainly better-looking than his namesake!"

"Hey!"

Laughing again, Aravis waved over a groom and asked him to please fetch their guests some apples and fresh water. "After all," she said, smiling down at Shasta the Second, "This young royal charger's had a long walk today." As she watched the Horses walking away, however, a look of disquiet entered her face.

"What's wrong?" Cor asked, concerned.

"It's just…" Aravis sighed. "Nothing."

"It's something," argued Cor. "What's wrong? I'm sure Shasta loved you, you know," he assured her. "He's just shy."

Aravis felt an unexpected surge of pleasure at the words. She hastily trampled it down before she had to think about it. "It's not that," she said shortly.

"Then what?"

"It's just…what did I ever do to help you?" Aravis burst out angrily. Whether her anger was aimed at Cor or herself, not even she knew.

Cor blinked. "…what?"

Aravis glared at him. "Hwin named her firstborn son after you, and _you _deserve the honor! When did I ever do anything helpful when we were escaping? All I did was complicate things!"

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is!" Aravis yelled. "What if it had been a normal lion? What if it _had_ wanted to kill me? You would have died as well trying to save me! Plus I had to get myself recognized, and risk my life trying to get out, and if I'd been killed Bree and Hwin would have been worse off than before, because Lasaraleen would have told that they were Talking Horses!"

"You just want to feel sorry for yourself," snapped Cor. He immediately wished he could take the words back.

" I don't…you little…_how dare you_…"

Cor decided to throw caution to the winds, and grabbed his friend's arms, holding her in front of him to keep her from storming off."

Aravis' eyes flashed with a truly homicidal light. "Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me."

Cor spoke quickly, before Aravis remembered what parts of his essential anatomy were in convenient striking distance of her knee. "Aravis, if you hadn't been with Lasaraleen that night, we wouldn't have known about Rabadash and the two hundred horse, and Anvard would have been captured, and Queen Susan would have been kidnapped, and eventually Narnia would have been taken over, and who knows what else? Don't you see? It was a huge stroke of luck that we met you! At least, it wasn't luck…it was Aslan. He knew I…we would need you."

Aravis froze. "Cor." She said tersely. "Let go. Of me. Right now." Very slowly, Cor unclenched his hands and moved back half a step. Even more slowly, Aravis raised her right hand as if to slap the Prince of Archenland. Then she launched herself forward and flung her arms around an utterly terrified-looking Cor, burying her face in his shoulder.

This, incidentally, is not a good idea if the person you are hugging happens to be wearing a chain-mail shirt at the time the hug takes place. Aravis released Cor immediately, rubbing her bruised forehead. Cor was fighting a losing battle not to smile.

Shasta, who was munching an apple while watching this confrontation, suddenly looked up at his mother. "They love each other, Mama," he said simply. "But I don't think they know it yet."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3-Finally**

"It was an immature, foolish, _dangerous _prank that nearly got me killed!"

"Aravis," begged Cor, "Corin didn't know you couldn't swim!"

"Then he shouldn't have pushed me into the river unless he knew for sure! Furthermore-"

"Aravis, will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes, of course," she said, irritated. "But furthermore-" suddenly she froze and spun around. "What did you just say?"

Cor flushed and began wringing his hands nervously. "Look, Aravis," he said, flustered. "I know it's kind of sudden, but I've been trying to work up the courage all week, and I was going to ask you today but then Corin pushed you into the river and then I had to save you and…and…never mind," he finished miserably, embarrassment rolling off him in waves. "I'll just…go."

Aravis reached out and stopped him. "No, Cor, wait," she said swiftly. "Just…give me a second to collect my wits. You surprised me, that's all."

Cor paused, hope sparking in his eyes. Aravis took a deep breath. "If you're asking solely as Prince Cor of Archenland…I'm afraid I shall have to decline." At Cor's crushed expression, she reached out quickly and gave a small smile, placing her hands on his shoulders. "You'll always be Shasta to me," she explained in a soft whisper. She had meant to make him smile, but the actual effect was quite the opposite. Cor's face took on a closed, guarded expression, but not before Aravis saw the flash of pain in his eyes. "…Cor?" she said hesitantly. "What's wrong?"

Cor pulled away from her, moving to the opposite side of his balcony. "Nothing, Lady Aravis," he said politely, and Aravis twitched slightly at the title.

Cor had never, ever, in all her time in Archenland, called her by anything other than her name, and she hated the sudden formality. "It's something," she insisted. "What is it?"

Cor spoke again, still in that blasted detached tone. "I completely understand," he said formally. "I realize that someone such as yourself, of high birth, who has been properly raised, would wish to marry someone more like yourself, and not a mere slave boy who has to all intents and purposes been adopted into royalty. That decision is certainly your right, and completely understandable."

Aravis couldn't believe what she was hearing. As if that was what she'd meant! "No, Cor," she gasped, appalled at the horrific misunderstanding. She grabbed his arm. "That's not what I meant at all! I only meant that, no matter what name you go by, you'll always be-"

"Just a peasant boy who got lucky," said Cor tersely. "Yes, I remember the conversation."

Aravis withdrew her hand as if burned, wincing at the memory. It had been the worst fight they had ever had. They hadn't spoken to one another for a week, until Corin became fed up with them and stolen every stitch of clothing from their rooms while they were bathing, leaving them nothing but the most outrageous, flambouyant dresses (Cor's had been a garish pink number with a bright green laced collar at least two feet tall and hoops so wide Aravis couldn't believe he had fit down the hallway, let alone through the door) that he could find in the castles at both Anvard and Cair Paravel. (Queen Lucy had helped him. The young Queen could have a deliciously evil sense of humor at times.) He had informed them that they would receive their clothes back when they had sorted out their differences.

Aravis figured she'd better get this cleared up quickly, before Corin decided to "help" them again.

"That's not what I was going to say, and you know it!" she hissed.

"Then what, pray tell, _were _you going to say, Tarkheena?" Cor snapped back. Aravis was actually glad to hear him angry at her; anything but that awful proper voice.

"I was _going _to say that…" she blushed, embarrassed with herself for doing so but unable to stop the pink tinge from creeping into her cheeks. "I was going to say that you'll always be Shasta, and that's better than Cor. Shasta's the one who treated me right, no matter how horrible I was to him. Shasta's the one who ran all that way to find King Lune and save Anvard. And…I know I say it a lot, but it's still true…Shasta charged a lion to save me, and even though I was never in any real danger, you didn't know that and neither did I."

Cor was very still, a strange look in his eyes. It seemed he was starting to hope, but was desperately afraid to.

Aravis, meanwhile, was trying to force herself to finish her little speech, because there was something she still had to say. It was just not something she had ever imagined she _would _say.

"I didn't fall in love with the Crown Prince of Archenland," she whispered, stepping to Shasta's side and taking his hand hesitantly. "I fell in love with a fisherman's son, a slave boy named Shasta." Inwardly, she winced at how…disgustingly _romantic_ she sounded, but she pressed onwards. "And if he asked me to marry him, I would-" She cut herself off with a gasp of shock as Cor swept her into a loving hug that was tight but not painfully so. He kissed her temple gently, and she gave a little shiver of pleasure despite herself.

Cor stepped back, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You'll have to marry both of us," he warned her in a mock-serious voice.

Aravis smirked. "Please tell me you're referring to Shasta and Cor, not Cor and Corin."

Cor grinned. "Of course," he said. "I would never ask you to marry Corin. Even I'm not _that _cruel."

"_Hey!"_

Cor and Aravis looked up in shock, to see Cor's twin leaning out from behind one of the stone eagles that flanked Cor's balcony. Until he spoke, the carved wings had hidden him from view.

"_You!"_ Cor said furiously. "How long have you been standing there?"

Corin gave a cheeky grin. He may have been a man by most standards, but at times he could be less mature than he had been at the age of twelve. "Long enough," he said casually. "Say, brother, how long does it take you to kiss a girl, anyway?"

Aravis narrowed her eyes. "Cor?" she asked in a pleasant tone.

"Yes, Aravis?" Cor replied, matching her innocent voice.

"Would you object if I murdered your brother?"

Cor pretended to think about it. "No," he decided.

Corin took one look at the expression on Aravis' face, and decided to run for it.

Three hours later, he peered out the peephole in one of the only secret passageways Cor didn't know about. It had a decent view of the stable yard where Cor and Aravis had finally given up hunting for him. He watched as Cor gently brushed a strand of Aravis' dark hair out of her face (her braid had come undone somewhere between the baguette swordfight in the kitchen and the high-speed pursuit through the wine cellars), lean in, and kiss her.

Corin sighed, half-proud and half-exasperated.

_Finally,_ he thought.


End file.
